Thoughts like raindrops this morning, falling, splattering, reflecting, being drained away, and every now and then droplets finding common ground to soak into, some mulching, a tree, a bush, a flower, and a million other beings. I imagine being taken on a raindrop journey, into the underground, a trail, a path, another landscape opens out, I draw a rough map of the journey. Something to re-look at another day, maybe to see if I can add to the initial map. I suppose our own maps are usually obscure or imperceptible. Our maps, our trails, journeys, paths we've made, places visited, people met, all spread out, mapped, a sketch, a map.